What I've Done
by electricsymphony
Summary: Sprung into the future fiftyfour years, sixteen year old Tom Riddle is being held captive in Grimmuald Place. An unhappy Hermione is the one that has to question him, but she may need more answers than he can give. THr.
1. Chapter 1

**What I've Done**

**Chapter One: What I'm Doing**

**Story by S.S.M.**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter but that won't stop me from hoping endlessly that someday I could possibly own it. Yes, I understand that is impossible. Stop ruining my dreams! I do however own the plot, or most of it, so you can't take that away from me.

Inspiration: The inspiration for this story came from the song 'What I've Done' by Linkin Park, (No, I don't own that either) and the deep insides of my mind (I own that much).

**This story is completely disregarding DH, whichever way you look at it. The story will pick up right after HBP. Also, anything you recognize from DH I took from DH. Yes, this means I will be taking some stuff from DH that I particularly liked and thought would flow with the story. So, DH spoilers for anyone who hasn't read the book.**

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**Hogwarts School**

**December 19****th****, 1942**

**4:54 p.m.**

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"Mr. Riddle, did you have something to add?" 

"No, sir," Tom answered, a disgusted look on his face. He hated when that man talked to him in that false cheery voice. It was as though he were mocking Tom, daring him to talk back or make a witty remark. He closed his eyes, leaned back against the chair and took a deep breath. Davies' was looking at him again with sudden interest, but Tom waved it off. "If I could, sir, isn't the incantation pronounced _'Yes-TI-a', not 'YE-sti-a'?_" No one moved. One student dropped his quill and it made a loud bang when it hit the floor. Some annoying Hufflepuff had his mouth open. "Sir?"

"You may escort yourself to the Headmasters office." Silence. "That was not a suggestion, Riddle."

"I understand sir," Tom smirked, picked up his bag, throwing it over his shoulder and giving the rest of the class an emotionless look. The looks he received back were slightly varied. Several of the Gryffindors were smirking at him and the other half looked thoroughly amused. The Slytherins either snickered or sneered at him, depending on how they viewed the attack on Davies. Tom didn't supply them with any sort of answer or acknowledgement and his facial expression mirrored this. Many of them simply stared, but Davies had his eyebrows raised. "Continue please, sir. We wouldn't want anything to hinder the education of this great bunch of youth, would we?" He smirked and turned his head towards the door.

He sauntered off to the direction of Dippit's office, growling something under his breath. Tom stopped moving immediately, the voice catching him off guard. It was a hissing noise and he could tell from the small increments of what he was hearing that the voiced person was hungry.

"_Eat to kill… find my prey…"_

Tom stopped dead. His eyes flew to the wall and his forehead began to heat up. Whatever that thing was, it wanted to kill. He hurried past the stone statue of the witch with the crooked nose and ran straight into one of his seniors, a 7th year Slytherin by the name of Abraxas Malfoy. Malfoy's smile split when he saw Tom and his smirk grew wider with every passing moment. "What are you doing out of class, Riddle?"

"I'm a prefect, Malfoy," Tom answered back, trying to push past him and past the sounds of hissing. He lifted his hand up in an attempt to thwart Malfoy, but it didn't work.

"I'm Head Boy, Riddle, in case I need remind you. I know exactly who is patrolling the corridors when and what classes are being held when. You have a class right now with Professor Davies in DADA. Why aren't you there, half-blood?" There was an icy tone to his voice and Tom narrowed his eyes. There were some things he could stand about some people, but being called a half-blood was not one of them. However, his 'respect' for authority ruined his chances at giving Malfoy what he may deserve.

"Since when does that make me a worse wizard, Malfoy?" He asked, trying as hard as he could to act completely natural as he leaned against the pillar. "I was sent to Dippit."

"Again, Riddle?" He asked, scoffing as he looked him up and down, "I see no Head Boy badge in your future if you keep the act up. Davies may be a right bloody nuisance when it comes down to it, but it matters not what you think of him. If you want what I've got, you'll act like you should. It doesn't matter how bad you want to squash him. You'll get your chance."

"What does that mean?" Tom asked, his eyebrows raised. He was studying Malfoy, but so far Malfoy wasn't letting anything about the meaning of the words leak out.

"Go see Dippit, Riddle." There was no arguing. He knew the slightly forced conversation was over, but he wouldn't stop thinking about it. Not yet, anyway. There was more to Abraxas Malfoy than he may have realized, but that didn't stop him from being a right jerk himself. Tom knew that Malfoy was right about one thing, however. He was never going to get that Head Boy badge if he didn't work at it. Forgetting completely about the sound of hissing following him through the walls, he head to Dippit's Office.

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**June 19th, 1996**

**Grimmuald Place**

**Order of the Phoenix**

**4:54 p.m.**

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"Want to play Exploding Snap, Hermione?" 

"Not really, Ron," she answered solemnly. This was what the experience at Grimmuald Place, summer of '96 had become. A huge game of exploding snap and an endless fight to discover who was more worried about Harry. He had forced himself to go back to the Dursleys and hadn't let them come with him. It was all the best, she expected, as the Dursleys might have kicked them out had they come. However, staying at Headquarters was not exactly a dream either. Harry hadn't been back there since before Sirius died and it had a slightly gloomy feeling towards it. They had avoided it like the plague for a year, and this is what had come back to. She knew Ron was feeling the same was she was.

It wasn't as if she didn't like Ron, she did. It wasn't even the fact that she didn't want to spend time with Ron either. However, they had spent the last few weeks barricaded in this room together, and it didn't matter how much you like the person, that would become tiresome. She had spent every waking moment with Ron for the past two and a half weeks. Ron wasn't allowed back home with the Weasleys because Mrs. Weasley was hectic over the wedding. She sent Ron over to Grimmuald Place along with Ginny. The twins were staying in their flat in Hogsmeade. Ginny was in the room next door, but she never left it. Hermione was worried for her as she knew she and Harry had a fall out, but didn't dwell on it. She knew Ginny was safe and that was all that really mattered now, wasn't it?

The only other two people staying besides the three of them were Draco Malfoy and Remus. Draco had been offered protection by Dumbledore before he died and he had taken advantage of it. He did however, still have his pride intact and refused to leave his room. His meals were brought up to his room and he didn't speak to anyone. Remus had successfully gotten him to eat a meal downstairs once but he only spent eight minutes with the lot of them and never said a word.

Remus was the only one not barricaded in his room the entire time. He spent most of his time moping downstairs when there was no one there, or greeting various order members when they arrived on the front steps. She could sometimes hear him going into Sirius' room, but she had never gotten the courage to tell him that she had. Every dinner he looked terrible, and that was the only time she was able to see him.

Overall, a glum mood had caught hold of Grimmuald Place, and it wasn't letting go.

"I think… I'm going to go downstairs," Ron announced, getting up off the floor.

"What?" Hermione asked, a bit shocked at this announcement. "I don't think--" she began, but trailed off for lack of a good explanation not to go downstairs. She knew that the only reason she didn't want him to leave was because she didn't want to be alone in this gloomy room. There were dark artifacts all across the walls and half of them scared her to death. She had been thinking to go to the Library for quite some time, but had never gotten the courage to leave.

As if reading her mind, Ron smiled and said, "Why don't you venture into the library? I bet your about to have a spasm since you haven't read a book in weeks." He grinned at her, and she hit him.

"Holy bloody hell, Hermione! Do you know how much that hurt?" Ron asked, nursing his now aching right arm. "I actually feel bad for the little blonde ferret. No one deserves that, crazy woman." Hermione narrowed her eyes and him but he didn't notice. He sat back on the bed and sighed. "Well, my intention was good at least. Seriously, why don't you go to the library?"

"I--" she tried to find a good reason, but she came up with nothing. "Alright—I'll go. Do you know where it is, because I haven't the first idea?"

Ron looked up, nodded and grabbed her hand. He led her past Ginny's door and dodged past the portrait of Phineas Nigellus in the background grunting something about a 'blonde-haired twat'. Hermione nervously hung back as Ron opened another door, looking around at the House-Elf heads mounted on the walls with disgust. "How did you know where the library was?"

"I—eh--"

"Ron?" She asked, her arm shaking a bit and falling loose from his grip.

"Sometimes I leave the room when you're asleep during the night. I hate being cooped up in that room just as much I know you do. I found this place a couple nights ago but I hadn't the idea to tell you about it. It just—slipped my mind."

"So… whilst you were badgering me into playing Exploding Snap, it never occurred to you to tell _me_ you knew where the _library_ was?" Now that she had said it like that, Ron suddenly flushed as red as his hair.

"I thought that—I didn't want you to go to the Library by yourself ever since--"

"Since what, Ron?"

"I heard something," he said, pointing towards the door that entered into the library. "I swear I heard a person in there--screaming. It scared me to pieces, Hermione, and I couldn't tell you. I thought you'd think I was—afraid of… you know…" He said, but he trailed off completely until she couldn't hear him anymore, except for the sound of his occasional mutter. His ears turned bright red and his palms were so sweaty that when he tried to rub them together he failed miserably.

"Excuse me," an annoyed voice came from the right side of Hermione, making them both jump about ten feet in the air. The blonde sneered and snorted before he turned to look at the two of them. "As much as I enjoy your rendezvous outside by bedroom door could you keep it down? I know you have your little lover's spat but you could you do it far away from my room?" He asked, pretending as if he was thoroughly disgusted at the display in front of him.

It had only just occurred to Hermione that this was the first time Malfoy had spoken since he arrived here.

"Oh and Weasley," Malfoy added, smirking, "I'm pretty sure Granger can go to the library by herself. She's a big girl now." With that, he shut the door. Hermione looked towards Ron, but he was even redder than he had been before.

"Just forget it," she told him as she motioned to the library. "Shall we?"

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**Hogwarts School**

**December 19****th****, 1942**

**5:32 p.m.**

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"You do realize what I'm asking, don't you Mr. Riddle?" 

Oh yes, he understood perfectly. He knew exactly what Dippit wanted him to do. He wasn't going to do a thing that crazy old man had suggested. He refused to act as though it didn't matter that Davies was purposely making his life a living hell for his own pleasurable experience. He knew what was going on here. He didn't like any of it. He was bribed to keep quiet about how rude Davies was to him in order to keep in the running for the Head Boy badge that would come in two years. The sides of his mouth twitched but he answered,

"Of course sir." He hated having to answer as such. He felt like a caged animal being watched by thousands of people, evaluated for how much of a suck up he was being. He would fail. That much was obvious. The older man leaned back, smirked in delight and clapped his tiny little hands together. Riddle scrunched his face in disgust but Dippit didn't notice.

"Good man, then." He announced cheerfully. "Good man!"

_How the bloody hell was that man a Hufflepuff? _He was the most un-loyal, manipulative crack-pot he had ever met in his life. He was disgracing the name of Hufflepuffs, and that was quite astonishing seeing as how much Tom detested the yellow-tied beings. "Shall I be off now, sir?"

"Oh," Dippit responded, sounding startled, "Of course. Be on your way now, Mr. Riddle! What an exciting moment we have just witnessed!"

There was nothing happy or exciting about this moment. He felt like he was about to throw up. He sauntered out of the office and into the deserted halls. He needed time to think. Before he could think, he tripped over a large box right in the middle of the hall and banged his head right against one of the statues to the left of him. His brain went on immediate freeze and his limbs stopped moving. There was no more light as he collapsed, no one to see it happen. There was also no one to see his body disappear.

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**June 19th, 1996**

**Grimmuald Place**

**Order of the Phoenix**

**6:42 p.m.**

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There was a loud bang as they shot up from their seats. "Did you— hear that?" Hermione asked, afraid that she was going crazy and Ron hadn't heard the disturbance. Ron only nodded and moved closer to the door in which it had come from. He hoisted it open and stood in shock for a moment or two. Hermione came up behind him and hoisted the door open further so she could see inside. 

"What are you looking at Ron?"

"Tom… Riddle…"

"Ron?" She asked, clearly thinking he had gone completely insane. "Have you gone criminally insane?"

"I may have," he muttered back. Then she noticed him. He was sitting there, sleeping, and currently out like a light. She simply gaped. She couldn't think of anything to say. Her mouth was hanging open and she was doing a very good imitation of a fish. Then again, so was Ron. All logical thought had vanished from her mind as she stared back at the scrawny youth in front of her.

"If you've gone to the loony bin," she muttered, "You might as well check me in."

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A/N: How'd you like that? Have you ever noticed that I can never seem to continue a story, yet other ones keep popping into my head all the time. Maybe that's why I have around 35 stories, almost all un-completeled. That might be it. 

S.S.M.


	2. Aftermath

_**What I've Done**_

_**Chapter Two**_

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The hot summer days kept passing by with very little significance and even less sunlight allowing itself to settle inside the blonde's room. Draco was taking his spare time to practice his spell work in the hollowed center of his dark room. He figured that someday fate was going to come back at bite him in the arse again. After all, he had defied Voldemort in one of the most idiotic ways he could have gone about it. He didn't have a plan, let alone a chance at living. Somehow, he had gotten out alive. The whole night was a blur to him. 

He was sent down to the dungeons of the Manor and set to die. He knew that this was going to be his last chance, he was aware. His father had broken out of Azkaban earlier and was there, watching him with a hard glare. His mother was a basketcase, sobbing for him to be set free. Voldemort tortured her until she finally gave up hope. She never even glanced his way when it was happening. He knew, at that moment, he was alone.

"_Good evening, Draco," Voldemort hissed, his beady red eyes staring him straight in the face, making him stiffen and look down. A cruel smile appeared on Voldemort's face and it was clear to both of them what was going to happen next. There was little stalling left to do now, as he knew it was coming. He decided in a brief second, if he was going to die… he would at least die with a shred of dignity._

_He raised his head slightly, twitched slightly and nodded, "Do your worst."_

"_How dare you, Malfoy! I never told you to speak out of turn, brat!" It took a second, but Draco prepared himself for the inevitable. "Crucio!"_

_Draco tried to ignore the pain, but it was too strong. He opened his mouth to scream but something inside of him didn't let him. Maybe it was that last shred of dignity shining through, he didn't know. He hoped however, that it caused Voldemort pain that he wasn't getting the reaction he wanted out of Draco._

_There was an awkward silence now. His mother refused to look up, his father looked angrier each passing moment and the other Death Eaters simply looked intrigued, processing the current event into their brains. This was an event for the archives. The day that a Malfoy stood up to Voldemort was like…_

_Well, none of the Death Eaters had ever seen something ever to compare to the shock of this moment. They all bowed their heads to Voldemort and he acknowledged them with a single nod. He turned his back to Draco for a moment to beckon Lucius closer, and Draco decided to act on a whim._

_There was no planning on his part. Just a simple "__**Adflicto**__" towards one of the Death Eaters in the rear corner and then mass chaos was started. Everyone was trying to get there hands on him, and it went to his benefit. Voldemort quickly put up a hand to silence everyone, but he wasn't quick enough. A stray Killing Curse hit his mother in the back and his eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't look at the body as it clunked to the floor, but he had a flicker of tear in his eye. She may have never really loved him but she tried to stop him from dying. He had no time to process this, however, since he ran out of the oak doors as fast as he could._

_By mere luck, he managed to dodge the several curses being hurled at him by Voldemort himself and managed to reach the East Wing doors without much of a problem. There, however, he met a problem. The doors were locked and other Death Eaters were right on his tail, each one out for his blood. Without as much as a hasty though, he brought his wand to himself and whispered, __**"Glamoure,"**_ _and quickly hid himself from view. He brought his hood up to his face, struggled to retain the cough that was about to escape and held his wand out, poised and ready._

_He walked over to a big, bulky Death Eater he didn't know (most likely a new recruit) and raised his wand up to his face. "Have you seen Malfoy?" He asked in a threatening and slightly intimidating voice. The new recruit, obviously still a student and a blatant idiot, shook his head no and whipped his wand in the other direction. "Find him, boy. Find him now!"_

_After managing to scare the living daylights out of the boy, he turned his attention to the lock on the East Wing door. His wand still pointed in the direction of the other advancing Death Eaters, he pointed his wand at the bolted door and yelled, __**"Firmo!"**_ _to unlock the door, but he was heard by a passing Death Eater. Cursing his luck, he quickly yelled the first thing that came to mind. He heard the Death Eater behind him shouting,_

"_It's Malfoy! Get him!"_

_He could see the face of the young recruit he had just faked and it looked murderous. He knew that the boy was going to be killed for his ignorance had anyone found out._

"_**Bombarda!"**__ With that, the entire wall collapsed and pieces came hurdling onto the passing Death Eaters. He held his wand upward, making a slight force field around himself, ready for the effects. The element of surprise simply was a beautiful work of art. While the Death Eaters tried to throw the massive amount of wood and metal off of them, he made his quick escape. Running as fast as he could, he concentrated hard on where he wanted to go, hearing Voldemort's deranged shout in the background, footsteps coming closer to him and spells firing past him. Hit in the leg with a cutting hex, he disregarded the bloody leg and disapperated on the spot._

That was how he ended up here, in Grimmuald Place. He had apparated to Hogsmeade and into the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta had him tied and bound in place after learning of who he was and he was quickly taken to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had brought him here, still tied and bound and interrogated him with Vertisuerem. He had confessed to everything they had asked and several other things as well. After they were certain he wasn't the enemy, he was unbound and left alone.

Remus Lupin had come to talk to him a while later, asking how he was doing. After some hard pressing of information, he finally told him about the previous night when he had disappeared from Headquarters. Remus confirmed his fears that he was now a marked man according to their spies and had helped to heal his wound. After this, he had been given this room and had sat in solitude every since. It had been about three weeks he had been holed up in this horrible excuse for a sanctuary. He would have rather been anywhere else but in the small, dingy room.

He looked horrible. His face was so pale from the darkness of the room and the limit in sunlight that he looked like a vampire. He hadn't eaten much at all since he had been reduced to the room, so he was fairly skinny and scrawny looking as well. While he had a bathroom, he hadn't had much interest in bathing himself so his hair was also a complete mess, greasy and falling all over the place.

He strode towards the door, hurled it open and looked into the hallway. The dimly lit hallway was no better than the small room he was reduced to. The entire Black House had given him the creeps from the moment he had arrived there. It reminded him far too much of Malfoy Manor to be of any comfort. He heard voices from the room next door and pressed himself against the door to hear what they were talking about.

It was Granger and Weasley. They both sounded very degraded and lost, but he didn't think it was of any concern to him. He heard footsteps advancing on the door and quickly ran back into his room and shut the door tight. They had left the room and he could hear them speaking now. Deciding in a moment to do something hasty, he hurled the door open and stepped outside. He saw them. They were about five feet away, but they still hadn't noticed him there as they were both not facing him.

"Excuse me," he managed to say with little confidence. They both turned around and stared at him with heated looks. He turned red, but covered it up very quickly with a sneer and tried hard to think of an insult. Nothing came to him. Silence. Then:

"As much as I enjoy your rendezvous outside my bedroom door could you keep it down? I know you have your little lovers spat but could you do it far away from my room?" He turned to leave, ashamed at himself that he was caught being so embarrassed and hoped they didn't think much of it. He had reduced himself to staying in this crappy place, he wouldn't let Granger and Weasley get to him.

Feeling a bit of confidence, he turned and retorted, "Oh and Weasley," he added with a snarky voice and a bit of a smirk, "I'm pretty sure Granger can go to the Library by herself, she's a big girl now." They both had strange looks on there faces but Draco didn't notice. He closed his door and slid down to the floor.

It was official. He was pathetic.

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"What--" Ron asked, but cut himself off for fear of speaking. They both stared at the young boy tied and bound and obvious unconscious. There was a flicker of fear in both their eyes, but that was not the concern. The memories of vivid descriptions of Tom Riddle had clarified it was him. She knew she shouldn't rely on a feeling or a description but something inside of her told her this was Tom Riddle. She turned over to Ron and saw the fear in his face. 

"How--" she asked, swallowing a bit and regaining confidence to speak, "Do we know that it's him?"

"I just--" he answered, his voice cracking slightly, "I know." He looked down on the teenaged boy with a pained look on his face. Every time he saw his face, he could see his sister, holding on to him in the Hospital Wing telling him how horrible it felt to be controlled by him. He could feel her embrace in his arms as she cried on his shoulder. He knew that this was the one man that had made his sister feel that pain. It made him want to throw up just looking at him. "This is the man that murdered my sister's innocence."

Hermione knew better than to speak on that subject. Sure, they thought it was Riddle sitting here bound by ropes and unconscious, but they didn't actually know. They needed to get someone who actually knew what he looked like. They needed someone who had prior experience with him. They both knew who they needed, but they couldn't bring themselves to say it to each other. As if by an unspoken suggestion, Ron shook his head.

"I won't make her deal with that again," he answered, shaking his head, "Would you?"

"I wouldn't want to," she answered, looking from him to the bound teenage boy. "What choice do we have? I know Remus has never had any contact with Riddle, and the only other resident of this household is…" she said, breaking off as if solving an answer to a very complicated puzzle. Her face lit up as she grabbed his arm and shoved him towards the room of the fifth floor.

"I don't want to ask Malfoy for help," he said, as if a young child who really didn't want to eat his vegetables. His tone was very whiny and Hermione felt as if she might slap him for the ignorance he was displaying. "We don't need him."

"Yes we do," she added, her tone very annoyed, "Stop acting like a petulant four year old."

"Petulant four-year-old?" He asked, a grin on his face. "Getting a bit creative with those new insults, are we?" He couldn't help but grin, even though she was making him annoyed. It was just one of those things in life he never understood. He actually liked arguing with Hermione. He could never understand why. He glanced over to her and realized that despite the fact she was annoyed with him as well, she was grinning a bit too.

She raised her hand and knocked on the door. There was an abrupt crash from inside the room, but it stopped suddenly as the door was heaved open to reveal a very agitated looking Draco Malfoy. He stood up straight and looked on in wonder at the two of them. "Any… reason you came knocking on my door?"

"We need your help," Hermione answered, her voice a bit unsteady.

"My help?" He answered. "You want me to help you?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe with a surprised look. "With what?"

"Eh…" she answered, a little unsure how to describe this.

Ron however, sick of the time they were wasting, grabbed Draco's arm much to his protests and dragged him to the Library. Normally, they were equal in strength, but since Draco had been holing himself in his room for the past three weeks barely eating anything, he wasn't ready to run any races yet. Giving up the attempt to fight back, he only growled as Ron dragged him into the Library.

Practically throwing him into the doors, he pointed towards the spot where Riddle had—

Where was he? He could see the clear horror on Hermione's face and the dawning resolution that came right after. He had woken up… and he had left. This was not good and they both knew what the consequences to this may be. They saw the clear confusion on Draco's face but before any of them could react, a wand was shoved in Ron's face.

"Now," came a clear voice from the shadows that they couldn't see, "I need some answers." The cool voice now had a face attached to it as a very angry Tom Riddle. He paused, still not moving the wand from Ron's forehead,

"Who is going to give them to me?"

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A/N: I hope this chapter cleared some things up. Like how Ron and Hermione knew it was Tom Riddle and things like that. If you still have questions, please leave them and I promise I'll answer them. Also, I don't pretend to know everything so some of the dates may be wrong. 

S.S.M.


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